


Variations on a Theme

by edibleflowers



Category: Torchwood RPF
Genre: M/M, roleplaying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-13 22:36:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gareth takes John by surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Variations on a Theme

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know where this one came from, but there it is. This is unrelated to the other RPS stuff I've written.
> 
> Originally posted on October 28, 2009, on my Livejournal.

"Jack," says Gareth, and John looks up from his script.

Gareth's still in his costume, Ianto's suit; only the jacket has been unbuttoned. Normally Gareth's quick to strip off the suits at the end of the day: he complains that they feel restrictive and unnatural. But there he is, leaning on the inside of the trailer door -- which he's strategically closed behind himself -- one hand smoothing down the pink-and-black striped tie. He is, in every attitude, still Ianto.

John sits up, catching his breath, and carefully puts the script down. "Gareth?" he asks, his voice cautious.

Gareth gives him a little narrow-eyed look of confusion. "Gareth who?" he repeats, and John shivers a little. He stands in one careful, steady movement. Unlike Gareth, he changed as soon as they were done with the night's shoot, and his costume hangs on the back of the closet door; he's in a polo shirt and jeans, nothing like what Jack would wear, but Gareth doesn't seem to care.

"What's up?" he asks slowly, just to be on the safe side. Gareth smiles a little, an absent sort of quirk of lips, and he shifts himself up and climbs the last couple of steps until he's on a level with John.

John's breath hitches as Gareth steps closer to him. The only thing going through his head is _don't fuck it up_ as Gareth's fingers drag down the front of his own shirt, pulling John's gaze downward with them. He takes in the slight distortion at the front of the trousers: _interesting_ \--

"I just thought I'd see if you needed anything before I turned in for the night, sir," Gareth says. His intonations are all Ianto, formal with the barest hint of amusement underneath.

Essaying his best Captain Jack smile, John lifts his eyes to Gareth's face again, raising an eyebrow. "I suppose it's a bit late to ask for a coffee," he suggests.

"I'm afraid I've already cleaned the machine." Gareth plays along gamely, taking another step closer -- invading John's personal space, now, it's clear. John swallows and brings his hand up to rest lightly on Gareth's chest, over the suit jacket. His tongue slips out, entirely involuntary, to wet his lips.

It's not an intentional hint or invitation, but Gareth takes him up on it regardless. He tips his head, brushes his nose against John's, then meets John's mouth with his own. There's no shyness, no hesitation; John opens his mouth and Gareth's tongue is there, riding over his, a sharp urgency to the kiss that he's never felt in all their snogs for the camera. He makes a helpless sound, grasping at Gareth's shoulders.

When he comes up for air, Gareth has him pressed to the table, a knee slid neatly between his, and there's no mistaking the hot line of erection rubbing wantonly into his hip. John feels heavy and confused. "Are -- are you sure--" he starts.

"It's not the first time, is it, Captain," Ianto -- no, fuck, fuck, _Gareth_ says, and John barely controls a full-body shudder because the idea that he actually is Captain Jack right now is frankly burning out his brain.

"Of course not," John murmurs, bringing a hand up to smooth back Gareth's hair, nipping at his lower lip. "There's a bed in here, if you want--?"

"This is good." Gareth's sliding down to his knees, pushing up John's shirt with his long slender fingers; he mutters the words absently into John's stomach, and John has a fleeting moment to wonder just when the fuck he lost control of this thing (if he ever had control of it) before Gareth's got his jeans undone and his cock out.

John's sweaty and grotty from a day of filming; he hates using the tiny shower in his trailer, though, so he always puts off cleaning up until he gets home. But Gareth doesn't seem to mind. He inhales, nuzzling John's dick with his cheek. John's already hard, has been from the moment they kissed, but Gareth's skin on him makes him go hard as stone and he groans, grips the edge of the table with both hands.

"Please tell me you locked the door," he gasps. Gareth glances up at him, expressively rolls his eyes -- such an Ianto expression that it makes John's heart contract -- and then takes him into his mouth. John abruptly ceases to care about whether the door is locked, open, or falling off the trailer. Gareth's mouth is hot and lush on him, talented tongue flashing everywhere at once.

John has to tip his head forward to watch. The sight of his cock disappearing into Gareth's mouth is obscene, erotic, sinful. Gareth swerves his eyes upward, meeting John's, and John swallows. He lets go of the table with one hand to curve his fingers into Gareth's short-cropped hair, laying fine and close to his skull. Gareth makes an encouraging sound that echoes through John's body like the sounding of a bell.

He can't last, not with the way Gareth's moving on him, so expertly sliding his tight mouth around John's dick, swallowing as much as he can take while his hand curls around the shaft at the base and squeezes, jerks in the same unhesitating rhythm. "C-close," he manages to gasp when he sucks in a breath of air, but Gareth doesn't slow down or pull off. If anything, John would swear that he speeds up, that the suction on his cock increases, the mouth and tongue on him even hotter and tighter than it was moments before. John yelps, throws his head back, and comes.

Afterward, when his vision comes back and he starts breathing again, he realizes that he's pulling Gareth's hair, and he lets go, muttering a hoarse apology. Gareth sits back on his heels, wiping his mouth with his fingers, and his eyes flash up at John, who has to step back and collapse into his seat.

"Jesus," he breathes. "Come here."

Still smiling in that cat-that-got-the-cream way, Gareth stands, brushing off his knees, and steps closer. John reaches for Gareth's hands, tugging him down until Gareth's sitting sideways on his lap. "Better," he murmurs, and slides his hands around Gareth's waist. Through the layers of fabric, he can feel Gareth's heat; the bump of erection nudges where John's forearm rests over Gareth's lap.

"Take care of you in a second," John says, "when I've got my breath back."

"I can wait 'til we get home," Gareth says with a little shrug. He presses a gentle kiss to John's forehead. "Surprised you, didn't I?"

John grins up at Gareth. "In more ways than one." He brings his hand back a little, until he can cover Gareth's cock with his hand, feeling the stiff line of it under trousers and boxer-briefs. "Sure I can't help you out?"

It's gratifying, the way Gareth's breathing seems to stop altogether when John touches him, just like it always does. John traces him leisurely, outlining the strong shape, from base to blunt round head; it's not a perfect image, the fabric of the trousers is too stiff, but when John rubs his thumb over where the head stands out, he feels Gareth tremble in his lap and grins to himself.

"That's what I thought," he murmurs, and goes for the belt to undo it. It never takes much to get Gareth to give in. Gareth swallows and licks his lips, breath hitching; he has an arm looped around John's shoulders for balance, and he watches as John slips the belt's tongue out, opens his trousers.

The trailer's gone so quiet that both of them jump at the sudden knock on the door. "John!" shouts his PA from outside. "You in there?"

John meets Gareth's eyes with a guilty grin. "Later," he whispers, a promise, and Gareth nods and stands, hurriedly doing his trousers up again. As he stands to do the same, John calls, "Yeah, I'm here, Rhys. Give me five, all right?"

"No problem," Rhys replies. John finishes zipping his jeans up again and smiles ruefully at Gareth.

"I'll go change, meet you at the car," Gareth murmurs.

"'K." John steals the briefest kiss, smiling at Gareth, and then heads out of the trailer so that he can distract Rhys while Gareth slips out. He doesn't mind the subterfuge. He's already planning on the perfect payback, once they're back at home.


End file.
